They parted without speaking again, save for their cursory farewells.
As Gryss drove through the gates and out into the sunlight, Nilsson stared after him. Monsters, he thought. But he could not bring the derision to the idea that he would have liked. The tale that Storran and Yeorson had returned with still lingered unpleasantly in his mind. And they were not foolish old men who were too afraid to move beyond their hearths. When they spoke it was foolish not to listen. He would have to do as he had told Gryss: make sure that whoever went out next to explore the way through the valley was prepared for trouble.
Gryss, too, was uneasy as he drove away from the castle. Try as he might, he could find little to like about Nilsson or his men and he hoped fervently that he was keeping his dislike well hidden, if only for the sake of the negotiations that would probably ensue during the collection of the tithe.
As the cart bounced over a particularly uneven part of the road and rocked him violently from side to side, he swore roundly at the folly of the King and his advisers sitting idle in some distant palace and devising fatuous schemes that involved honest folk trooping all over the countryside carrying his precious tithe. Had he no idea what such a thing was going to involve?
But that was not his predominant concern. That still lay with the persistent interest of these strangers in the land to the north. And, he reflected, he was quite surprised by Nilsson’s response to his account of the caves and the creatures therein. An outright laugh would have been understandable, if not excusable, but there had not been even a flicker of amusement in either his face or his manner. Gryss reached a similar conclu-sion about Nilsson as Nilsson had about him but minutes before. The Captain was a strange mixture of genial host and brutal leader. And too difficult to read. It would behove him, as senior elder of the village, to keep his distance and to watch his words carefully tomorrow when the barn was opened and the tithe assessed.
Yet the concern about the north returned to him. Were there enemies there that the Captain knew of but for various reasons could not speak about? The prospects were coldly awful. Was the castle to be manned again? He found himself cringing more at the idea of the valley being invaded by the likes of Nilsson’s men than at the possibility of some enemy army descending upon them.
He had no time to ponder this paradox, however, as a figure suddenly emerged from the trees on his right.
It was Rannick.
Gryss started but took in Rannick’s appearance in a single glance. He was thinner, his angular features now almost gaunt. He’s not eaten in days, Gryss diagnosed instantly. And yet there was some more subtle change: he looked at once wilder and more composed…
Gryss frowned.
‘A poor greeting,’ Rannick said.
‘You startled me,’ Gryss responded.
Rannick nodded and walked forward. The horse whinnied and tried to move sideways causing the cart to creak in protest. Gryss shouted at it, but to no avail. He yanked on the reins but the horse ignored him.
Slowly Rannick turned to the horse and stared at it. ‘Whoa,’ he said, very softly. The horse stopped moving immediately, but it turned its head to one side slightly, and Gryss saw its eye, white with fear.
‘You always had a way with animals, Rannick,’ Gryss said, by way of thanks. Rannick smiled, though in a manner which indicated that it was because of some inner pleasantry of his own rather than any compliment that Gryss had paid him.
‘Where have you been, Rannick?’ Gryss asked. ‘I was concerned about you. And you look half starved.’
‘I thank you for your concern, Gryss,’ Rannick said, without a hint of irony. ‘But it was unnecessary. I’m used to fending for myself and I’ve been away on…’ He smiled his strange inner smile again. This time Gryss felt chilled by it. ‘On a voyage of exploration.’
‘Where?’ Gryss asked. ‘What’s to be explored around here?’
‘Many things,’ Rannick replied enigmatically, then, ‘Who are the men in the castle?’
The bluntness of the question took Gryss unawares. ‘Tithe gatherers,’ he answered.
Rannick looked straight at him. The change in him rang through Gryss. His eyes, normally narrowed and full of bitterness or scorn, were wide and penetrating. Gryss met them with difficulty.
Where had Rannick been? What had happened to him? Was he feverish, delirious through exposure and lack of food?
No, whatever other impression he gave, Rannick had a vigour about him that Gryss had never seen before.
‘Rather spoiled our Dalmas celebrations,’ Gryss went on in an attempt to come back to normality. But Rannick had turned away and lifted his head, like an animal scenting the wind. ‘Gatherers,’ he said softly to himself. Then he shook his head as if in denial.
‘Do you want a lift down to the village?’ Gryss asked, finding himself increasingly unnerved by Rannick’s presence. Rannick cocked his head on one side as if he had heard the question from a great distance.
‘No,’ he said eventually, still scenting the air. ‘Tell me about these… gatherers.’
‘What’s to tell?’ Gryss shrugged.
‘Everything,’ Rannick said, turning his attention back to Gryss and staring at him intently. The horse shifted, restlessly, making the cart shake. The noise sounded faint and distant in Gryss’s ears and he realized that he was surrounded by a peculiar silence. It was as if the very air about him was pressing in on him. He could see the trees swaying in the light breeze and he knew that the many other sounds of the valley were all about him, but they, too, were now distant. And he could hear no birds singing. Rannick moved his hand slightly and the horse became still again.
‘Tell me.’ Rannick’s voice demanded total attention through the silence.
Gryss found himself talking about the unexpected arrival of the gatherers, of meeting their leader and tending their sick and giving them food. ‘Foreigners they are, too.’ And of the broken locks in the castle and the unsettling menace they seemed to carry with them. And, too, their curiosity about what lay to the north. ‘“It’s the Great Forest,” I told them. “Nothing there but trees. And there’s caves up the valley before you get there. Bad place.” But I think they’ll be sending someone before long. In fact, they seem more interested in that than in the tithe. I hope there’s no trouble brewing.’
He was aware of Rannick watching, listening; his eyes, his new vigour filling his whole attention.
And then he was free. The birds were singing again, the ubiquitous sounds of the valley folded about him.
And Rannick was gone. Gryss looked around, but there was no sign of him.
He could not remember seeing him go. Had he been dreaming? Or momentarily ill? He was certainly breathless. Then, without command, the horse began to move again and jerked Gryss sharply back to the practical.
It was trotting.
Gryss tugged on the reins to slow the animal, but it did not respond until he applied some considerable force. It occurred to him that the horse was anxious to be away. And indeed, he decided, so was he. The strange meeting with Rannick had served only to add more confusion and turmoil to the many thoughts and speculations that were already tumbling through his mind.
Where the devil had he come from so suddenly? And where had he disappeared to? And, for that matter, where had he been these past days, and what had happened to so change him? He had no answers, though he could not set aside the feeling that such answers would be important.
As they moved further away from the place where Rannick had appeared, so the horse began to pull less and, after a while, Gryss gave it its head and devoted himself to searching for some order out of his whirling thoughts.
By the time he had reached Garren’s farm he had given up. One thing at a time, he had decided. The tithe was his business, and getting the gatherers out of here. Then getting the village back on a straight furrow after the upheaval. The tithe day had been a bizarre experi-ence, with the traditional celebratory meals being eaten in atmospheres ranging from forced jocularity to downright ill-humour. It was as if the guests at a wedding had suddenly discovered it was a funeral.